Wolfslayer
by Strange Fuzz
Summary: It's you...the Red Riding Hood, the Wolfslayer! A twisted quickie.


This, like my other fairy tale fic, is based on the MacFarlane's Monsters action figure Little Red Riding Hood. The link to the website is on my profile. I wrote this story last year in creative writing for mere shock factor. It worked.

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It was nearly midnight. A grinning moon shone down from a black sky pinpricked with stars. The forest had become a deep labyrinth of darkness, full of winding paths and malicious creatures that lurked just out of reach of the moonlight. Every so often a light breeze stirred the high branches and released a few dry autumn leaves onto the forest floor, where they were quickly trampled by a passing animal. This particular animal happened to be a scrawny grey wolf, walking on his hind legs and glancing nervously at the surrounding trees. He snuffed at the air around him, breathing in the essence of the night. The scent was crisp like the leaves and clear like the sky, but every few steps the sharp smell of unknown danger jabbed his senses. He couldn't identify what it was. He could tell that he didn't want to know. 

He trekked on, unaware that the danger was much closer than he thought. A thin form was following him, moving with total silence. It would have gone unnoticed for some time had the wolf not stepped into a pool of moonlight and thrown a nervous glance over his shoulder. When he caught sight of what appeared to be a living shadow standing directly behind him he let out a startled yelp and stumbled backwards, tripping over his own feet and tail. The shadow threw its arms out from its sides and a cloak spread out behind it like the wings of a bat. In its right hand was the glimmering blade of a sickle.

Before the wolf could take off into the forest the shadow threw the weapon. The curved blade spun in the air and caught the wolf around the neck, pinning him against a tree. He stood against the rough bark of the rotting tree, his feet stretched to the toes, eyes darting fearfully around him as the shadow advanced towards him.

It stood in the moonlight, the hood of the crimson cloak disguising its face. The wolf realized by its movements that it was a human, though it was like none he had seen before. This one moved like it was part human and part darkness, and spoke with a voice that dripped malice and contempt. "I have questions for you, Wolf. Answer them and I may let you free."

The wolf pawed at the razor sharp sickle that held his throat to the tree. His voice came like it was clawing its way from his lungs. "It's awful hard t' speak…"

With a light rustle of the cloak, the human raised an arm and leaned against the handle of the sickle. "Then I suggest you hurry up."

There was a moment of silence as the wolf gazed into the abyss of darkness that masked the human's face. Suddenly his yellow eyes widened in scared realization. "You…you! The Red Riding Hood…the Wolfslayer!"

Red chuckled lightly while slowly putting more pressure on the sickle blade. "I see you've heard of me…from your Boss, no doubt."

The wolf let out a gruff laugh that was quickly choked to silence. "Yeah," he rasped, "I heard of ya. I bet yer after the Boss."

Red's hood dipped down in a slight nod. "Where is he?"

"Can't say," the wolf replied, but as the blade began to dig into his skin he said hurriedly, "I mean, he don't tell anybeast where he's goin'…he goes where he pleases and ain't no one gonna question him…last I heard he was travelin' to the next forest…stop with the fancy knife, I'm tellin' the truth!"

The cold steel was pressed painfully tight against his throat. Red leaned forward and whispered into his ragged, pointy ear, "I don't trust wolves that walk like people."

The wolf was squirming against the tree now, pleading with her in a high pitched whine. "I swear t' you, I swear it! God strike me dead, I swear!"

She let him writhe a little longer before wrenching the blade out of the tree. The wolf fell to a crumpled heap and staggered to his feet. He cast a final frightened glance at the deep blackness of her hood and mumbled, "Crazy bitch." Immediately afterwards he made a mad dash for the thicker trees.

Red watched him stumble along, then raised her sickle and let it fly with deadly speed. There was a sickening squelch, followed by the thud of her blade as it was buried in another tree. She walked over to the now headless wolf and retrieved her weapon, then stepped over his body and walked back through the small clearing.

Red let the hood drop to her shoulders, releasing long hair that was so dark it seemed to have absorbed the twilight. Her long red cloak fluttered around her as the breeze picked up again. The tight leather clothing beneath it was shimmering and black, rendering her a moving shadow that could slink through the forest undetected until she chose to be seen. She raised her sickle before her, admiring how the moonlight glinted off the blade and enhanced the dark blood that coated it. Her ruby red lips parted in a grin and she brought the weapon closer to her pale face. Her tongue flicked out against it, lapping up the blood of her most recent victim.

When she was satisfied she swiped the rest clean on the mesh sleeves that covered her arms and hooked the weapon through her belt. She stepped back up on the narrow path and started walking. She knew where to find the notorious Boss, the wolf that controlled all the packs in the forest. For years they had been preying on countless creatures, causing death and grief throughout the land. Red had begun taking out pack by pack, but that had not been enough. She had to go straight to the source. The Boss, of course, had predicted that she would, and ordered his wolves to murder her closest friends and family.

Red's fist tightened around the handle of the sickle as she remembered what had happened. Her mother was the first one the wolves went after, and they succeeded. Now the Boss was targeting her grandmother, and Red wasn't about to let him get there first. She reached the spot on the road where she left her sleek silver motorcycle and stopped walking. Throwing her cloak out of her way, she swung one knee-high boot over the side and kicked the engine to life. The machine roared to life, banishing the silence from the forest and bringing a smirk to Red's face. The engine kept up its smooth purr as she leaned low and sped off, moving like a runaway shadow while the grinning moon lit her way.

The night was beginning to fade by the time Red reached the small cottage deep in the woods. The noise of the motorcycle dwindled to growl as she shut down the engine and stood up. Her cloak settled around her as she swiped strands of hair out of her eyes. She reached back and pulled her hood over her head, concealing her grim determination. Her boots crunched against the dead leaves in front of the house as she walked up to the door and raised her hand to knock. When she found that the door was already partly open her heart flooded with dread. She reached into her cloak and thumbed the cool blade of the sickle, pressing it until her skin split and a small droplet of blood oozed out. Blood, yes, there would be plenty of that.

She pushed the door open while calling in a sweet voice, "Grandma?"

To the right, set back against the wall, was a large bed. The room was dark except for the flickering light of a candle that sat on the bedside table. The covers on the bed were in disarray, obviously concealing something. Red smirked beneath her hood. How stupid did the Boss think she was? She walked towards the bed, readying her hand on the sickle. "Grandma?" she asked again. The shape beneath the covers she suspected was the Boss Wolf didn't stir. Why wasn't he moving? She took a few more steps, then reached out and closed her left hand over the covers. In one swift move she yanked the blankets off the bed and whipped her sickle from her belt.

The wolf wasn't there as she had expected. The shapeless lump beneath the covers had been a few pillows…and her grandmother's head. The closet door directly to her right sprang open and the Boss Wolf leapt out, jaws stretched wide, teeth and claws dark and wet. Red swung the sickle and he dropped to the floor, howling in pain. He recovered faster than she could register and came at her again. She could see the deep cut she had made across his face as he knocked her hood away, slashing wildly at her eyes. His long hooked claws tore at her flesh until she blindly stabbed upwards with the sickle. Another howl from the wolf told her she had dealt him another deep wound.

They backed away from each other for a moment, breathing heavily. Red swiped blood out of her eyes and held the sickle ready. The Wolf crouched low, panting heavily. "You're the first one to come looking for me, Wolfslayer," he snarled. "Some may think of you as brave. I think of you as foolish."

He threw himself at her again and she fought him back. "Creatures that think like humans shouldn't eat humans," she growled.

He laughed cruelly and sprang again. His teeth went for her throat but met the sickle instead. They stood locked for a second before Red ripped the sickle sideways. The wolf pushed away from her, nearly screaming from anger and pain. His severed tongue splashed to the floor in a puddle of blood. Without hesitation, Red reached over and hauled the wolf into the air by the scruff of his neck.

She pressed the sickle to his stomach as he kicked feebly in her grasp. "Your days of terrorizing the forest are over, Wolf. I hope you enjoyed the meal you made of my grandmother." Slowly, agonizingly, relishing every second, Red drew the blade across the wolf's stomach. "It was your last."

He convulsed and flailed, helpless and screaming, teeth grinding until they shattered and eyes bulging from sockets as the contents of his stomach spilled onto the floor beneath him. At last his death throes slowed and stopped, and with a few final twitches of his body the wolf shuddered and fell limp.

Entwined in the intestines and organs that now littered the floor was the headless body of Red's grandmother. The Wolfslayer dropped the body of the animal and gathered up the body of her relative. She tenderly replaced it in the bed, then leaned over and blew out the candle. The room was thrown into pitch blackness, and the runaway shadow with the billowing red cloak slid out the door.


End file.
